


Drowning

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [33]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission on a planet that’s 97% water, where the inhabitants are aquatic? Not really Mal’s thing. But where Trip goes, so does he, because Trip tends to get into trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

"You don't have to go," Trip said for the third time.

"Mmmm," Mal replied, staring at the screen. "I think I probably should."

"I don't _want_ you to go?" Trip tried.

"I think I probably should."

Trip pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. As far as he knew the new civilization they'd been in contact with wasn't having any problems with whatever technology they used--so there was really no need for an engineer on this mission. But Trip had been stuck back on the ship for the last three away missions while other people got to have all the fun—other people, like T'Pol, who didn't even really seem to appreciate it. He wasn't too proud to admit he'd guilted Jon a little for a spot on the away team this time.

But Mal was another story.

Much as Trip cared about Mal, really the only thing useful he did was, well, look after Trip. Which Trip really appreciated, of course. But it wasn't like Mal was an ace diplomat or a linguist or even a pilot. And he was terrified of open water—an important consideration, as the planet was 97% water with the sentient inhabitants living deep under the vast ocean. Maybe if they had been going into a hostile situation, which _did_ require an engineer, Trip would've been glad to have him along, and the Captain would've gone for it easily. But Hoshi had been talking to the Burbles—not their real name of course, just the closest humans could come to it without producing spit bubbles—for days now, and everything indicated they were just curious to meet other species, shake hands (or perhaps fins), then move along. Trip just didn't think he could sell the Captain on the idea of toting a _second_ not-exactly-vital person with them.

Try telling any of that to Mal, though. Trip had made all the arguments for him already, but Mal refused to budge. Now he just gazed at the screen showing a picture of the planet in all its watery glory, nibbling his lower lip nervously. Most of the 3% land was concentrated on a single temperate island about halfway between the north pole and the equator, and Trip had even gotten a little mean and described what the view probably looked like from it—water, water everywhere, in any direction you turned, without even a sandbar across the whole planet. Probably an exaggeration, but still.

"I think I should probably go."

"What the h—l for?"

"It might be dangerous. You might need help."

At least Trip could take comfort in the fact that he knew Mal wasn't after adventure or glory, he wasn't just trying to get attention or to be difficult. He really didn't _want_ to go. But just because Trip could figure out what _wasn't_ his motive didn't mean he understood what really _was._ Or, more importantly, how to counter it.

"Why don't you stay in Engineering and scrub out that access tube?"

"Don't try to bribe me." Only Mal would consider scrubbing out an access tube 'bribery.' Anyone else would consider it 'punishment.'

"Mal, there's nothing dangerous down there. Just some sand, a whole lotta water, and the Burbles. Who seem nice enough, for fish people. H—l, you don't even like _fish_."

"I love fish. I'm just allergic to it."

"You've never even eaten fish!"

"There's always something dangerous down there." This last bit was said darkly. Trip sometimes thought Mal would know no more perfect happiness than if he and Trip could just retire to the middle of Nebraska and never go into space, a large city, or a lake ever again.

Trip played his last card, which was honesty. "Look, I practically had to _beg_ Jon to take me along here—both T'Pol and Marcus got on his case about bein' left behind, okay? Don't make me ask him to bring _you_ along, too. Please."

Mal's eyes lit up. "Lt. Marcus isn't going? Okay, I can be security!"

Trip sighed and leaned back heavily against the shuttlepod, realizing his tactical error all too late. Actually honesty had been his second-to-last card; the _true_ last card was yelling and threats. "Mal, if you don't get back to Engineering _right this minute_ —"

Archer, Hoshi, and Travis entered the launch bay at that moment, cutting off the really scary and creative threat Trip had thought up but was reluctant to verbalize in front of witnesses.

"Ready to go, Trip?" Archer asked cheerfully. He was always cheerful when he got to meet new species, the weirder the better.

"Just give the word, sir," Trip replied, going for enthusiastic but coming out a bit on the wan side. There was no possible way they were getting out of the launch bay without a scene now. If it all went _really_ badly, Trip would be staying behind, too. Because that was all Mal really wanted: to be wherever Trip was.

Travis cracked the hatch on the pod and climbed in to fire it up. Hoshi clambered over the barrier that was waist-high on her petite form, muttering something about how someday they should make the bottom half open as well. Archer easily swung his long legs into the pod and took the seat behind Travis. Hoping against hope that Mal would gain half an ounce of good sense in the next five seconds, Trip tumbled inside as well. Just as he was tucking himself in beside Hoshi, he saw Mal crawl in defiantly.

Trip spun in his chair to see if Archer had noticed, realizing at the same time that the shuttlepod was _far_ too small to claim that Mal was just an undetected stowaway later. "Would you just—get out!" he hissed at Mal, who was settling down on the floor by his feet. "Go home!" He felt like he had the time he was thirteen and his dog followed him to school—not some cool dog that would impress all the thirteen-year-old girls, but just his mangy old coon hound, the same kind of dog _everyone_ had except theirs were smart enough to stay home on a school day.

"Mal," Archer said sternly, and Trip's head snapped around to see Archer giving Mal a firm gaze.

"Um, he, um—" Trip began.

"You know you need to sit in a seat, not on the floor," Archer finished. He turned back to face the front of the pod. "And shut the hatch while you're up, okay?"

Mal dutifully pulled the hatch closed and strapped himself in to the bench at the back of the pod. Trip was looking between Mal and Archer in great confusion. "But, um, I—"

"Did you get your shots from Dr. Phlox?" Archer continued conversationally.

"Yes, sir," Mal replied promptly, and suddenly things began to sink in to Trip. Of course Jon's little smirk as he looked back over his shoulder at Trip kind of gave it away too.

Well, he couldn't get mad at his captain for pulling one over on him, so he did the next best thing. "You little passive-aggressive sh—" he began, facing Mal.

"Trip," Archer admonished as the pod started to pull away from _Enterprise_. "Don't you want someone to look after you on this alien planet? I know _I_ do. He can kind of be like security, since Marcus isn't going."

Trip was still glaring death and destruction at Mal, who had the gall to smirk at him smugly. Trip concentrated hard on the worst imagery he could, something about stuffing his face with pecan pie and fried catfish while tossing Mal's beloved pineapples out the airlock, and Mal actually let out a gasp of horror. Which was quite satisfying for Trip. Despite Jon turning around again to chide him. "I didn't touch him!" Trip insisted, hands raised. But at least Mal wasn't smirking at him anymore.

A few minutes later Travis landed the pod smoothly on the small island as indicated by the Burbles. It was even more desolate than Trip had imagined—a precarious-looking splotch of sand in the midst of the heaving ocean, more like a spill about to be washed away than a permanent land feature. It didn't even have any trees, just some scrubby bushes and a rather pathetic patch of grass. Which Travis probably killed by landing on it, but it was the clearest space available. The whole island could honestly fit into the launch bay they'd just left.

"D—n," Trip commented philosophically, gazing around from beside the pod.

"Not exactly a tropical paradise," Travis agreed. Trip just shook his head and pulled out his scanner, trying to make himself useful by taking some scientific readings for T'Pol to analyze later.

Archer and Hoshi were examining the only non-natural-looking item they could find, a small obelisk perched on a rocky outcropping. "This is it, sir," the ensign confirmed, scanning the message written on it into the UT she'd brought. "This is the marker the Burbles mentioned."

"H—l of a welcome center," Archer muttered. "How do we activate it?"

Archer and Hoshi busied themselves pushing buttons on the obelisk. Trip would've offered to lend his engineering expertise, but the object was barely big enough for the two people standing around it now. He held his scanner out, vaguely pointed at the water—of course it would have been difficult to point it anywhere _other_ than the water on this planet—and turned his attention to his annoying little shadow, who had so far refused to move any more of his body out of the pod than his head and hands.

"Are shuttlepods waterproof?" Mal asked, trying to sound casual, as if the question had just occurred to him out of the blue.

"They fly through _space_ ," Trip pointed out. "They're airtight." Of course if the pod really got submerged the water would probably flood the thrusters and disable the whole engine, but he didn't feel the need to mention that. "You're the one who wanted to come," he reminded Mal unnecessarily. "At least get out on the ground."

"It's not really _ground_ , is it?" Mal critiqued, staring at the substance in question. "It's just _sand_. Sand is messy."

"Get out here."

Gingerly, as if he were being forced to step onto hot coals barefoot, Mal lowered one foot out of the hatch and on to the sand. It squished under his boot, as sand was wont to do. He wrinkled his nose distastefully. "What's that smell?" he asked, dragging himself out of the pod fully.

"The ocean," Trip replied, taking a deep, happy breath. "Salt air, wet sand, seaweed. It's good for you."

Pointedly ignoring Trip, Mal gracefully swung himself up onto the top of the shuttlepod. "There's a ladder on the other side, you know," Trip grumbled. "Show-off." He took a cursory glance at the readings on the scanner and was about to needle Mal again when suddenly something from the display registered in Trip's brain. He turned back to it with a frown.

"Something wrong?" Mal inquired, crouching on the top of the pod. Wrong was good. Wrong gave him something else to focus on besides the endless watery graveyard lapping at the spit of sand they stood on, cooing dreadfully-- _I'm coming for you, Mal. There is no escape_. He shuddered and leaned over to look at the scanner Trip held.

Trip poked a few buttons, frowning, scanning again, poking more buttons, frowning more. "Hey, Captain?" he finally called, moving away from the pod to join Archer and Hoshi at the obelisk. Mal settled back on the top of the pod with a sigh, resolutely not looking at the water. Which meant he was basically looking down at his lap.

"Hmmm, Trip?" Archer asked distractedly. He reached out to touch a shiny blue button on the obelisk and Hoshi grabbed his wrist gently but firmly.

"If you would let _me_ , sir," she suggested politely.

"Er, right, yes," Archer agreed. "Probably best." He stepped back from temptation to look at Trip expectantly.

"I think there's something in the water," Trip began, holding up the scanner for Archer.

"What, like a shark? I don't see anything." Trip turned to find Archer staring out to sea instead of at the scanner. The engineer sighed, regretting having shown _Jaws_ at Movie Night just two weeks ago. He shook the scanner to get Archer's attention.

"Some kind of mineral dissolved in the water, I think," Trip explained. "It looks like it's giving off low-level radiation. Not enough to hurt us, I don't think, but it might interfere with our communicators."

Archer pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Archer to _Enterprise_ ," he said experimentally.

" _T'Pol here_ ," the First Officer answered, her message slightly garbled.

"Trip thinks there's something in the water," Archer began.

" _Scans showed no large aquatic predators in your vicinity_ ," T'Pol assured them. Trip rolled his eyes, for once wishing T'Pol had skipped Movie Night.

"No, there's a mineral in it," Archer corrected. "He's sending you the data now." Trip punched a few buttons on the scanner, feeding its signal through his communicator.

They were quiet a moment as T'Pol skimmed the data. "D'you think it'll interfere with the communicators much?" Trip pressed.

" _Your signal is currently displaying forty-three percent deviation from normal parameters_ ," T'Pol informed them, the channel crackly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Trip whispered to Archer, who smirked.

" _However, communication should be possible as long as you remain above the surface_ ," she concluded.

"D—n, I was hopin' to go sea-bathing," Trip complained with a grin.

The Captain shushed him. "Thanks, we'll keep that in mind," he replied. "Archer out."

Archer turned back to Hoshi and the obelisk, curious about what she had discovered in the last couple minutes, and Trip wandered back to the pod. Mal was sitting on top of it cross-legged, obsessively picking every grain of sand out of one of his shoes. Travis was shooting him the occasional glare and trying to stand somewhere where the sand wouldn't rain down upon him.

"See anything new up there?" Trip poked him. Mal gave him a disdainful look and ignored his comment. Trip put a foot up on the bottom of the hatch opening and boosted himself up until he was at shoulder-height with Mal. "No use dumping the sand out _now_ , you know," he pointed out. "You're just going to get more in there."

"Not if I stay right here until it's time to go," Mal countered.

"Hey, I thought you wanted to meet the Burbles," Trip prodded, deliberately obtuse. "I don't know what the plan is yet, but I'm pretty sure you're gonna have to get back on the ground for it."

"It's best to have a high vantage point, for surveillance purposes," Mal informed him haughtily. Trip shared a look with Travis. "I _am_ providing security for you here, after all."

"Mal, what's there to survey?" Trip asked with some exasperation. He flung an arm out to encompass the scenery. "There's nothin' here but bushes and wat—" His exuberant movement and sand-covered boot conspired to unbalance Trip as his foot slipped out from under him. He grabbed instinctively for the smooth top of the pod, fingers finding no purchase, and envisioned himself being slightly bruised and incredibly embarrassed in mere milliseconds.

Mal leaned over and grabbed the back of Trip's uniform, holding him aloft until he could reestablish his foothold. Then Mal went back to flicking bits of sand away from his shoe, and Travis backed up from where he'd jumped forward to assist. "You were saying?" Mal commented acidly.

"Thanks," Trip told him, slightly sarcastic. Because he wouldn't be _doing_ fool things like climbing on shuttlepod hatches if Mal weren't perched on top of said shuttlepods in the first place. "I was just saying that—"

"Trip!" The engineer turned to see Archer and Hoshi taking the five steps necessary to bring them back to the pod from the obelisk. Well, five steps for Archer, more like eight for Hoshi. The Captain spared a quick look for Mal on the top of the pod, then explained with some excitement, "That thing's some kind of comm station. Apparently the Burbles get a lot of land-based visitors—they even have a special vehicle for them."

"Vehicle?" Trip repeated dubiously, dropping back down into the sand. "Like a boat?" Now he wished _he_ hadn't watched _Jaws_ two weeks ago.

"More like a submarine, I think," Hoshi clarified, squinting at the information on her UT display. "They're going to take us down underwater so we can interact with them."

"That's so cool," commented Travis enviously, knowing he would have to stay and babysit the shuttlepod.

"I better practice the traditional greeting," Hoshi fussed, backing away a bit. "Let me know if I accidentally spit on you."

"Isn't this great?" Archer asked Trip eagerly. "It'll be just like the time we went deep sea diving off the Keys! Or maybe more like the time we took that mini-sub to the Great Barrier Reef..."

"Yeah, it's... great..." Trip agreed thinly, preoccupied. He hadn't noticed Mal oh-so-stealthily jumping down from the top of the pod to the sand, but it was hard to miss the white-knuckled hand gripping his upper arm painfully. Mal's face was even paler than usual and his breathing was quick and shallow. "Mal," Trip whispered worriedly. "You okay?" Mal jerked his head to face Trip, eyes wide, and nodded quickly.

"Fine," he ground out. Which was always a sure sign he was anything but.

Trip sighed and began to feel badly about the comments he'd made earlier. Some of Mal's more creative nightmares probably started out with just a speck of land completely surrounded by water. Or at least they would from now on. There was no way Trip was going to subject him to going underwater in some kind of submarine—he would probably have a heart attack.

"You know, Captain, I think Mal should probably stay here with the pod," Trip said suddenly, inadvertently cutting off Archer's reminiscences about past diving experiences. Travis perked up, hoping that meant he could join them underwater instead. Archer gave him a curious look and Trip scrambled to think of a good reason. Not that being terrified of water wasn't a good reason. But revealing that would probably make the Captain realize it had been _completely_ useless to bring Mal along. And nearly useless to bring Trip—after all, the only thing Trip had done so far was—"The mineral in the water!" Trip exclaimed suddenly. The Captain frowned at him in confusion. "T'Pol said it would probably cut off communication with the ship if we went underwater, right?" Archer nodded. "So Mal should stay up here, and that way if anything happens to us underwater, he'll know about it, and he and Travis can contact _Enterprise_ for help." Travis sagged back against the shuttlepod, disappointed.

"Good thinking, Trip," Archer told him. "You don't mind staying up here, do you, Mal?"

"If I must, sir," Mal replied. Then he threw his arms around Trip in a bear hug. "I love you." Archer shook his head, uncomprehending, and turned to prod Hoshi about when the fun could begin.

"You're okay with stayin' up here, right?" Trip asked when he was allowed to breathe again. "You're not gonna feel guilty about it later?"

"No, it's a good idea," Mal assured him. "I don't think I could do much to help you under—under—" His breathing rate began to speed up just thinking about it. Trip rubbed his back soothingly and Mal let out a long breath to calm himself. "I mean, I think I could do more good for you up here. To contact the ship, like you said."

"Okay, good," Trip smiled.

A noise just off the shore caught their attention. The water was bubbling and churning, white foam spewing onto the narrow beach, and Mal shoved Trip behind him protectively, closer to the open shuttlepod hatch. A moment later a large object rose from the water, looking like nothing so much as a huge glass egg—rounded, transparent, and hollow.

"You're going down in _that_?!" Travis exclaimed, bitterness evident. "You're going to have a _fantastic_ view, from all sides—" He shook his head, sighing.

Trip patted his shoulder consolingly. "Hey, next time we get shore leave near an ocean, I'll take you out in a glass-bottomed boat," he offered with a grin.

"Thanks, yeah that'll be just as good," Travis replied sarcastically. "Just as good as being _completely submersed in a glass container_."

"Oh, it's awful, don't go," Mal begged, throwing himself at Trip and burying his face in his shoulder.

"Okay, come on, now," Trip said, prying the other man off him. "We already decided. You're going to protect the whole landing party if I go and you stay here. Right?"

"Trip, let's go!" Archer called to him, eagerly heading towards the object with Hoshi in tow.

"Have fun, you guys!" Travis shouted after them, waving as the three officers entered through a clear door in the side of the vehicle. The door closed after them, becoming almost invisible, and then the glass egg began to slowly sink beneath the water. Mal turned away, leaning heavily on the shuttlepod, unable to watch.

 

Half an hour later, Travis had checked in with _Enterprise_ twice, run diagnostics on every system of the shuttlepod, and attempted to build three sandcastles, all of which had been utter failures. He didn't know if it was something in the sand on this planet, or if it required a knack learned in childhood, or what. He certainly didn't have much personal experience with beaches. Overall Travis decided that his greatest accomplishment was getting Mal to take off his shoes and socks and actually walk—gasp!— _barefoot_ in nature. "What about ants? What about jellyfish? What about seaweed?" The last fear had nearly been the deal-breaker, as Mal looked like he would vomit if he came any closer to the slimy, shapeless dark green lumps that littered the edge of the beach and the rocks.

"Um... Just don't step on them," Travis had advised helplessly. How did Commander Tucker deal with this all the time? Fortunately Mal had thought Travis's suggestion very sensible.

Mal's only consolation at his predicament—alien planet, surrounded by water, sand undoubtedly burrowing through the skin of his bare feet—was that Trip seemed to be thrilled by whatever he was doing. Underwater. Deep down underwater beneath the taunting waves, the impenetrable blue-green wall, where there was no escape and no place safe... Mal sighed and resumed pacing up and down the beach. Perhaps Trip would be done soon, and then they could leave and take a shower and have a snack and never ever come back.

Meanwhile, inside the glass egg, Trip was hoping just the opposite—that Archer and Hoshi _wouldn't_ finish up their diplomatic visit too quickly, because he thought he could stand in this container all day watching the ocean swirl around him. The Burbles were frankly a little creepy, in Trip's opinion—he'd been envisioning mermaids, he supposed, but they were more like giant fish with long fins they could operate roughly like arms. Highly intelligent and peaceful and interesting and all that, sure, but—hey, was that an eel? Trip ducked down, open-mouthed, watching the dark, whip-like creature snake by within centimeters of his face. He scooted around the perimeter of the container, following it, until he suddenly bumped into something and looked up to see Archer and Hoshi glaring down at him.

"Sorry," he murmured hurriedly, standing back up and returning to his previous position. The other two officers resumed their stilted conversation with the chief Burbles. His discipline didn't last too long, however, as Trip was soon crouched down on the floor of the container, staring at a small colony of sea urchin equivalents that were perched on the rocks just outside. He felt like he could almost reach out and touch their spines, they were so close.

Part of him hoped he wasn't embarrassing Archer too much, but on the other hand, _someone_ ought to be having a good time here. They were submerged thirty meters into the ocean on an alien planet inside a clear glass ship, for goodness sake! Archer could meet-and-greet, Hoshi could translate, but Trip was d—n well going to watch a starfish rip open a small crustacean and digest it externally from seven centimeters away--he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't.

The starfish-like creature had just about finished exuding its stomach onto the hapless clam-like creature's soft flesh when Trip noticed he was feeling a little warm. Distractingly so. Regretfully leaving the natural drama in front of him Trip sidled, discreetly, towards the only blemish in the otherwise completely transparent container, the control panel. Instead of using some kind of visual indicator for the environmental settings of the ship—like a bar or a gauge, as on _Enterprise_ —the Burbles used changes in sound. Which made sense to Trip in theory, as sound carried so well through water. But to his untrained ears all the different soft beeps and trills from the various panels blended into white noise, telling him nothing. Hoshi might have been able to pick one out and find a pattern in it, but she was busy trying to translate into Burble without drooling all over herself. So in the end Trip cheated and pulled out his scanner.

Vaguely he thought he heard Archer excuse himself in the background. "Trip, do you think it's getting a little warm in here?" the Captain asked, turning to face him.

"I was just checkin' that out," Trip assured him, gazing at the scanner display. "Yeah, the temperature's gone up a good three degrees since we've been down here." He looked up at Archer with some concern. "You think anything's wrong?"

The Captain shrugged, having no more information than Trip did. "Hoshi, could you ask them—" He broke off when he saw a sudden excitement ripple through the assembled gathering of Burbles. They were swarming the container, darting all around it in every direction, burbling to each other too quickly for Hoshi to process it. Archer asked anyway. "Hoshi, what's going on?"

"I don't know, sir," she answered, frustrated, trying to pick out key words and phrases. "I think, maybe, something's—wrong? With the—inside bubble?" Hoshi frowned. "Does that mean us, or the environment inside the ship, or is it a metaphor?"

Archer suddenly staggered slightly, steadying himself with a hand on the glass wall. "Captain!" both Hoshi and Trip exclaimed, leaping to his side.

"I'm feeling a little light-headed," Archer told them. "Do either of you feel it?"

"Air pressure's dropping," Trip reported, gazing at his scanner. A wave of dizziness hit him, nearly knocking him off his feet. One of the indicators on the control panel was making a distinctly high-pitched noise now, not that Trip knew how to fix it or even if he _could_.

Archer thumped on the glass, trying to draw the Burbles' attention. Although it was hard to know when they were looking at him, because of the way their eyes were positioned on either side of their heads. "Hey! We need some help in here!" The fish-people continued to swim frantically around them, and Archer didn't know if they were distressed or pleased with the state of the humans.

Back on the beach, Mal paused mid-step in his pacing, eyes unfocused as he concentrated on something internally. "Something's wrong," he announced.

Travis's eyes widened. "What is it?" he asked. Mal stood frozen in place on the sand, head cocked slightly to one side, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. "Mal?" Then suddenly Mal took off running, right into the lapping waves near where the glass egg had arisen, and dove headfirst into the water as soon as it was deep enough. For an instant Travis just stared, open-mouthed, then he yanked his communicator out of his pocket and signaled _Enterprise_ —though he had a feeling Commander T'Pol would not be pleased with the scant information he could provide.

Down, down, down he swam, into the hazy blue-green, hands slicing through the water in front of him, shoving it backwards to propel his body forward, his feet kicking to provide extra thrust and steering. There was no time to ask how he knew how to do that; he just pointed himself towards Trip and swam. That was the end of it. The glass egg was hard to see itself--the three officers crumbled on the bottom of it seemed to hover in the water, hardly different from the dozens of large fish who flickered anxiously around them. The fish, or rather fish-people, were not a threat; Mal ignored them. There was something wrong with the glass egg itself.

Mal paused for only an instant beside it, to stare at Trip's semi-conscious form on the other side of the glass. He was unreachable—not that Mal couldn't break through the egg easily enough, whatever it was made of, but if he did that the water would rush in, stealing the air as surely as some kind of mechanical malfunction had. Mal forced himself to keep swimming.

Several Burbles were bobbing around part of the egg, some kind of cluster of panels on the inside connected to hoses and tubes trailing away into the rocks. They scattered when Mal approached and he swam up to the mechanism, examining it closely. Of course he didn't know what it was _supposed_ to look like. Mal glanced over the rest of the egg, contemplating just lifting the whole thing back up to the surface.

One of the Burbles swam back over to him, gazing at him with a bulbous eye that seemed to focus at all the wrong angles. He lifted one of his fin-arms and scraped the spiny tips at the mechanism on the egg, brushing away some of the seaweed that had clustered there. Mal watched intently, counting down the minutes—seconds, really—that Trip had left in the back of his mind. The Burble scrabbled at the mechanism again, but it couldn't reach all of the seaweed. Understanding suddenly, Mal plunged in and grabbing a fistful of the seaweed, wrapping his hand around its slick surface to get a firm grip, then yanked it away from the machinery. The Burble didn't try to stop him, so Mal continued clearing the plant matter, reaching into all the crevices that a creature without true fingers could never have penetrated.

Before he'd quite removed it all there was a sputtering sound as the mechanism sprang back to life. Mal swam back to the side of the egg, hands on the glass to hold himself in place, watching Trip closely. He was getting better, Mal could feel it—which meant Mal really ought to get back to the surface. But he longed to see Trip return to consciousness with his own eyes.

Finally Trip began to stir inside the glass egg, eyes fluttering open. He was going to have a monster headache, but at least he was alive. Mal _really_ needed to leave. He could feel his lungs burning, the desire to inhale almost overwhelming. Just a little longer, though... Trip rolled over, not quite ready to sit up yet, and his eyes widened when he was able to focus on the view outside the egg. Scrambling to his knees, hands on the glass, Mal could see him mouthing Mal's name, though the sound was contained by the glass.

That was all Mal could take—more than was wise, really—and he pushed away from the egg and shot up to the surface, swimming furiously, feeling like the air was bleeding out of him. When he finally broke the surface and started gulping the oxygen in he was so light-headed he could barely figure out which direction the island was in.

Strong arms gripped him suddenly, hauling Mal through the water until he could feel land under his feet. He collapsed on the beach, panting, Travis kneeling beside him with a worried expression. "Mal just came up," he reported into his communicator. "I don't see—"

The water churned and bubbled again and the egg gracefully rose from the water. Trip shoved his way out of the hatch before the door was even fully open and sprinted across the beach to Mal. "G-d, Mal! Mal, are you okay?" In the background Travis jogged over to the Captain and Hoshi, connecting them to the waiting crew on _Enterprise_.

With Trip's help Mal managed to roll over onto his back, then he pushed himself up and threw his arms around Trip. "It's okay, it's okay, darlin'," Trip told him soothingly, rubbing his back. A cool breeze set off the shivers in Mal's waterlogged form and Trip hurriedly yanked his jacket off, wrapping it around Mal's shoulders. "That was—that was incredible, Mal—how could you even breathe—are you okay?" Trip demanded again, having never gotten an answer to the question in the first place. Mal nodded against Trip's shoulder, clutching him tightly.

Archer knelt in the sand beside them. "Is he okay?" he asked of Trip.

"Yeah, I think so," his friend replied, running his hand through Mal's hair. "What the h—l happened?"

"According to Hoshi, the Burbles say it was a malfunction of some kind with the environmental controls—something about seaweed?" Archer explained, still somewhat confused himself. "Looks like they could use an engineer after all." He clapped Mal on the shoulder. "Good job, Mal." Then he stood and hurried back to the communication obelisk that Hoshi was hunched over.

Trip watched him, then glanced at the egg bobbing in the waves. Apparently neither of them were pointless additions to the team, as it turned out. "I gotta go check this out," he told Mal apologetically, starting to pull away.

"Wait a minute!" Mal demanded huffily. "That's all the comfort I get? After what I just _did_?"

"Mal!" Trip sighed. "I gotta work now. But we'll do something special when we get back, okay? Promise." He gave Mal a final hug. "Thank you, buddy. I don't know how you did it, but I'm d—n glad you did." Trip scrambled back to his feet, not bothering to brush the sand from his knees. Mal was huddled under the _Enterprise_ jacket, shivering, staring up at him with a distressed gaze. "You can keep the jacket," Trip added, and a thoughtful expression crossed Mal's face.

"Okay," he agreed, pulling it around himself more tightly. Trip grinned and turned his mind towards engineering pursuits, eyeing the glass egg that had nearly suffocated them.

 

Mal popped a perfect little wedge of pineapple into his mouth, squeezing the juice out of it with his tongue before chewing it, sucking every molecule of flavor out of it. "Mmmmmm," he murmured, expressing his approval. "Cocoa, please."

Trip leaned over to the nightstand and picked up the mug of (milk-free) hot cocoa and handed it to Mal. He couldn't quite see the combination of cocoa and pineapple himself, but it seemed to make Mal happy and that was his goal tonight. The other man took a big, long drink, sighed with great satisfaction, and gave the mug back to Trip to set aside. Trip grinned and wrapped his arms back around Mal.

"I could do that," Mal assured him, nodding towards the screen they watched. Ginger Rogers had just executed an impressive glide down a staircase.

"I bet you could," Trip agreed with sincerity. "But don't let me catch you trying it in my engine room." Mal snickered and Trip had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what Mal was going to be doing the next day at work. But really that was okay.

The important thing was that Mal actually _felt_ like dancing down a staircase still—all the way back to _Enterprise_ in the shuttle, once the adrenaline had worn off and he didn't have to focus on alien technology anymore, Trip had been worried that Mal had suffered some kind of psychological trauma from the dive, or even just plain old _physical_ injury. It seemed reasonable to expect, anyway. But Phlox had checked the landing party out thoroughly and determined that all of them, Mal included, had come away from their latest adventure intact. Although frankly Trip thought Phlox seemed a _little_ skeptical when the engineer was describing how Mal had saved them all—was he _certain_ the glass ship was that far underwater, that it had taken _that_ long to fix, etc.. Well, that didn't really matter. Trip knew what he'd seen. He hugged Mal against him a little tighter.

"This is fun," Mal decided, apropos of nothing.

"Yeah, Chef doesn't break out his super-secret cocoa recipe just every day," Trip agreed. From the smell he suspected that there was peppermint schnapps involved.

"Mmmm, the cocoa _is_ nice," Mal nodded, snuggling back against Trip. "But I just like being here with you."

Trip let the thought warm him for a moment. Mal took a lot of getting used to, that was certain. In fact Trip wasn't sure he'd _ever_ be used to him. But he was also finding it harder and harder to imagine life _without_ Mal in it—and not just because Mal kept rescuing him from certain doom.

"You like me enough to share that pineapple with me?" Trip asked playfully.

Mal snorted a bit. "Let's not get carried away. This is pineapple we're talking about."


End file.
